By Henry Akubuiro
Joshua Oppenheimer’s take on journalism stakes a claim to the ideal: “The function of journalism is, primarily, to uncover vital new information in the public interest and to put that information in a context so that we can use it to improve the human condition.”
For much of his journalism career, spanning over three decades, frontline Nigerian journalist, Amanze Obi, has lent himself to Oppenheimerian dictum, first as a reporter, editorial page editor, editorial board chairman, information manager and a culture administrator.
For a profession regarded as history on the run (Thomas Griffith) and literature in a hurry (Mathew Arnold), Obi has, as an intellectual in journalism, circumvented the banal to carve a niche for himself as one of Nigeria’s greatest scribblers. Noted for his witticisms and pyrotechnics, trenchant commentaries, and urbane outlook, he has cut a cult figure for many fans across the world, especially with his “Broken Tongue” column. But his journey to fame wasn’t fortuitous. Here is the story of a self made man who didn’t dally from the word go. Scents of Power, a memoir by Obi, says it all. It’s a book about self discovery, ascending the professional totempole, and being a chronicler and active participant of Nigerian political history at the same time.
In his foreword to Obi’s new book, Scents of Power, (Stirling–Holders Publisher, Ibadan, pp. 224) Kano State Governor, Dr. Abdullahi Ganduje, rightly notes that “Amanze Obi is a journalist that has transversed the media landscape and made his imprint in many national dailies; his opinions have found favour in the public domain, adding value to the papers’ image and economics.”
Though Nigerian media houses have provided the platforms where the Obi legend and political acuity flowered beyond our shores, it was at his undergraduate days at the University of Lagos that the Amanze Obi phenomenon had a successful test run. In the first section of the book “The University Years”, you follow his progress as a freshman in 1984 mixing fun with knowledge, getting immersed into campus politics, still completing his masters and doctorate degrees in flying colours. It wasn’t a big surprise to many, for, beneath that veneer of fun lover on campus, was a profound “rigour major”.
His informal journalistic career began while running his masters programme as a contributor of articles to newspaper houses in Lagos. But his first media job was in 1990 with TSM, The Sunday Magazine, published by Chris Anyanwu. From there, he moved to Newswave magazine. In 1999, while running for his doctorate, he had to combine teaching at Unilag and journalism. Following the successful defence of his masters in 1997, Obi quit the classroom completely for the newsroom.
Scents of Power, in the second chapter, details Obi’s romance with the world of news. Though his stint with The Guardian ran side by side with his PhD programme, he distinguished himself. In fact, his brilliance shone during his first assignment for The Guardian to cover a crisis at the Idumota Market. Working for The Guardian helped him in many ways. For one, it made him travel to more than 20 states of the country. Following the closure of The Guardian by the Abacha junta, the high flying Obi was snatched by the Ibadan-based paper, Third Eye. He was to return to The Guardian after it was reopened in late 1995.
Always sought after by the best media houses in the country, Obi was snatched by ThisDay as its foreign affairs editor. He recalls: “I had a rapid career progression at ThisDay Newspapers. Obaigbena, a liberal employer, always gave the journalists in the stable… the opportunity to grow” (p. 34). As a PhD holder, he wanted to move on to the Editorial board which had more intellectual demands than the foreign affairs beat. His wish was granted in 2001 when he was made the Editorial Page Editor of ThisDay. It is here that his popular “Broken Tongue” column was born in September, 1999, thanks to the foresight of Obaigbena who saw backpage columns as a marketing strategy.
Obi’s “Broken Tongue” column was already popular at ThisDay, but joining The Sun presented him with another opportunity to be a master stylist. His all-round impact was permeating: “… the newspaper, at inception, was an admixture of the mundane and the serious. But with the blend and some form of editorial re-engineering, the marriage turned out to be an instant success” (65).
At The Sun, Obi also became a transversing troubadour of a sort, embarking on significant foreign trips abroad, including meeting with the legendary Nelson Mandela and more than once to the US with Orji Uzor Kalu.
From the third section of the book, the reader follows the author’s backward glancing trail to the dawn of democracy in Nigeria and in 1999 and how he was at the thick of things as an interrogator of the polity, which also brought him face to face with some of the major players in the Nigerian enterprise.
If you expected Obi to sing hosanna because he found himself in politics at some point in his career, you are getting hold of the wrong end of the stick, for he sums it up, rather, as being in the purgatory, given his experience as a one-time commissioner for information in Imo State during the tenure of Chief Ikedi Ohakim, as well as that of culture and tourism.
As a professional journalist schooled in headlines and deadlines, he discovered that the political space was Janus-faced and too suffocating for an intellectual like him, with many guiles and intrigues, especially from fellow political appointees who were best at digging a pit for your downfall. Yet he served meritoriously in government, despite the landmines.
Reading Obi’s Scents of Power, one discovers that Obi’s media career approximates to an apotheosis, because the low, high and mighty valorise and court him, even when his trenchant views go against the grain. Obi’s media orientation tells you that everything by a journalist ought not to be music to your ears: the bitter goes with the sweet, too. A master of tart, the twentieth chapter beams light on the Kalu-Ohakim wedger and how, placed in a dilemma to respond to the media war between two masters of his, Obi resolved the impasse with a masterly intervention.
Away from the “self” discourse, towards the end of the book, the author reviews “Politics Nigeriana” where he takes a gander at how politics has been stultified in this part. His aspiration for a seat in the Federal House of Reps in 2017 ended at party primaries level, despite being shoulder high above his rivals. Obi doesn’t, however, relapse to needless jeremiad —he has learnt his lessons.
Scents of Power also chronicles the author’s role as a culture administrator with his pioneering role as the Director of the Ahiajoku Institute, Owerri, during the brief tenure of former Imo State Governor, Chief Emeka Ihedioha. The book’s postscript reveals Goodluck Jonathan as a fall guy let down by the squirrelling politicians.
Scents of Power is illuminating to the benighted, just as it is enlightening to the elite. In it, we identify an ideologue who isn’t a bohemian and one whose trajectory enkindles hope for voices on the fringe and the journalism practice itself. This well written book invites you to take more than a cursory look. Read it and let it sink in.